Random Stories
by azirainbow
Summary: All the killings do is incite hatred and fear. People react to fear. They rise against it and persecute so they feel like the all powerful being.' Moving on to random people in random times...please R&R!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer - I don't own the Wizarding World, Merlin, the Order of Merlin or anything Harry Pottery, as should be obvious from my style of writing.

Okies, I'm not sure where this idea came from, but I thought it was different from what you normally get so I wrote it. This is just the introduction really and I plan also to write about the International Statute of Secrecy and eventually move to modern times (i.e. Harry Potterness). Enjoy and review/flame/suggest improvements/ideas. Hope you like it :)

The Splitting of Two Worlds  
  
Chapter one – Prologue, The Order of Merlin  
  
The mist swirled around the hills, clinging to every blade of grass it could, desperate not to be dispersed. As you travelled along the gentle hills and towering trees the villages of peasants working feverishly in the morning cold, desperate to earn their feed, are but little blots on the beautiful landscape. Idyllic though this picture may be, the pain of riding a broomstick is ever present and I am sure my discomfort will be displayed in the faces of my acquaintances on my arrival at the Court.  
  
I have summoned many of my peers to a gathering at the round table. We are known as the Order of Merlin. Our aim is to help non-magical people with their hard struggles in life and protect them from magical attack from less then savoury wizarding characters. They do not have magic to help them along you see. They cannot fly on broomsticks, nor make their daily labours easier with a wave of a wand. Mind you, with the discomfort I'm experiencing now, I think non-magical people are somewhat better off with their slower lives. I may be hailed as the best wizard in existence at charms but I have not yet managed to find one suiting to the purpose of making my short flight more comfortable. I am beginning to think this aim is unattainable and that my buttocks would be much better off sitting on a horse than a knobbly piece of ash tree.  
  
The castle begins to come into view. The mist is clearing now and I can see a faint silhouette of a keep and curtain walls. The keep is a square, rising high into the sky, a show of power over the local people. A flock of birds is swooping past me as I fly, squawking boisterously, whether in alarm at my presence in the air or just plain excitement I cannot tell. As I land, I spot through the corner of my eye a slight frown of disgust from a non-magical guard of my friend Arthur, who I have helped many times since he was a child. I cannot help thinking there is a shift in the action of the world currently occurring. Magic is no longer fully integrated into non-magic lives. There is a small crack running down the middle of the two 'worlds' which is increasing in size over time and will, possibly, result in a split between us and non-magical beings.  
  
Non-magical peoples are beginning to fear us; they do not understand our ways or customs. Magic is something against which they cannot fight. There is a mutual distrust between us and them. The cracks are partly caused by wizards who believe what 'blood' you are matters. They attack non-magical people with the excuse they are making the wizarding world pure, removing the temptation of a beautiful non-magical woman from the wizards' life therefore ensuring he finds a witch to marry instead. It is nonsense. All the killings do is incite hatred and fear. People react to fear. They rise against it and persecute so they feel like the all powerful being. Wizards are killed because they hurt non-magical humans. And the 'pure bloods' call it wrong. Surely to say such a thing is hypocritical when they kill also. Wizards persecute the opposite way, we are all at fault.  
  
I stand at the head of the table, if a round table can have a head. My acquaintances are attentive, their eyes barely leaving my face. I am setting out my proposals for protecting non-magical humans from magic which, I believe, are essential if there is to be an end to the persecution slowly unfolding in front of our eyes like a poisonous flower just coming into bloom. Some nod their heads in agreement, others remain impossible to figure, but we are all united under the belief that something needs to be done to prevent an ultimate split resulting in the formation of two separate worlds which go their separate ways. It is a solemn affair. We realise that our decision will affect wizards in generations to come. It will affect all.  
  
Merlin, the Prince of Enchanters as he would be known in centuries to come, had foreseen great strife between non-magical and magical beings. Unfortunately, his actions were too little, too late.


	2. Random 1

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The Golden Snidget - 1269

I am Barberous Bragge. The amazingly handsome Chief of the Wizard's Council and the intuitive thinker who thought of the absolutely brilliant idea of using the Golden Snidget in the hallowed game of Quaditch, if I say so myself. I also feel that my idea revolutionised the game, brought it a new lease of life, a new factor of excitement for the young children of today and future generations to admire. I will be remembered as the hero of modern day Quaditch in years to come, a champion from times gone by. But how did I achieve my glorious feat I hear you cry? Well, hark to my outstanding storytelling and enjoy my tale.

It was a fine summer's day. I had been out Snidget-hunting at dawn for the simple pleasure of feeling the cool air on my face and the thrills of catching a fast and versatile bird. The exhilaration you feel when you catch such a creature is indescribable, I would certainly advise such a pursuit to you fine young people. The snitch I had caught was efficiently caged in order to avoid its escape. I then proceeded to attend a local Quaditch match, accompanied by assorted friends and admirers. It was then I hit upon the wondrous idea! Quaditch is all very well and good with the Blooders and the Quaffle, but the game doesn't actually have an ultimate aim! And the Snidget was the perfect thing! What if we were to put a Snidget in the oval-shaped Quaditch area and get a player to catch it? The first team to catch the horrid little blighter would receive 150 Galleons from me, Barberous Bragge, as rich as I am intelligent. (Naturally, I was not going to pay them anything, it was just to gain interest. These people don't deserve my well-earned money!)

Amazing idea! Wondrous, Beautiful, Exquisite! The crowd fell at my feet with excitement and aided my idea, keeping the Snidget in the playing area using repelling spells. It was working! Until some nasty little woman named Modesty Rabnott decided to intervene…

She had the audacity, would you believe it to run onto the pitch and shout at me! ME! Barberous Bragge, Chief of the Wizard's Council, and some woman thinks she can yell at me! I tell you what she says, although it isn't pretty I warn you. Extremely coarse. Oh, all right, I'll tell you. She said, 'Chief Bragge, this is not a sport! Let the Snidget go free and let us watch the noble game of Quaditch which we have all come to see!' See what I mean? I couldn't help but laugh at her impudence. I decided to throw the Snidget cage at her, to teach her a lesson.

But a lesson it did not teach, oh no! She then Summoned the Snidget to herself! Of course, she had angered the crowd who were previously enjoying my new introduction. Unfortunately, she alsomanaged to set the bird free before I caught her. I was ready to tear her limb from limb, transfigure her into a horned toad, or perhaps a slimy slug! But, no, she was not worth the effort. I bravely calmed myself down and sentenced her to a mere 10 Galleon fine. She got off lightly. Apparently, she's had to give up her house. A small punishment. She deserves it, the silly woman should not have disturbed the game!

****

The International Statute of Secrecy, 1692

'It is the decision of the various governments of the Wizarding community that with the increasing rise in persecution against the magical community, wizards should actively seek to distance themselves from the non-magical populations of the world. It is forbidden to use a wand in front of a muggle unless circumstances arise in which it is necessary. After such an incident has occurred, memory charms will be used to erase the muggles' memory of the incident which has occurred. Further information, including a full print of the new International Statute of Secrecy, will be sent to every Wizarding household shortly. The new measures have been introduced in the hope of reducing the increasing problem of muggle persecution against magical activity.'

Stoddard Withers lay down his paper with a small sigh. This new legislation was not good news. If magic was not to be seen by muggles then magical creatures would surely have to be prevented from being seen. This would make his job a lot harder; flying horses can easily escape one's hands at times, especially when young and eager. The problem was where to keep them. Horses with wings on their backs stand out on the landscape for some reason and muggles seem to become fascinated with them. The chestnut-coloured Aethonan horses wouldn't be too bad to hide as they were calm-mannered and obedient most of the time. But the Abraxan horses? Giant and powerful, they needed forceful handling and often went out of control. An invisibility charm would be hard to perform on such a large object; it would take a few wizards to accomplish that task. Probably quite a bit of money also.

Mind you, on the other hand there wasn't much of a likelihood of any of Stoddard's family being persecuted or burnt at the stake. Of course, he _himself_ would not be accused of being a witch (he was a Lord after all) and even if he was, it would not be hard to pay a judge to ignore the claim. Stoddard stopped to think for a moment about how painful it must be to burn to death, shuddered, and went to give his precious horses their morning feed.

****

The Discovery of Gillyweed

Elladora Ketteridge was busy bustling around her cottage. She was drying herbs for the potion she was going to make, a spell to ensnare the senses and make the drinker relaxed and happy, free from the constraints of life and responsibility. At least, that's what she hoped would happen. She wasn't sure yet. Elladora checked her cauldron was at full boil over the crackling wood fire and began adding the ingredients. Lacewing flies, dried nettles, essence of hellebore were put in the cauldron and stirred together. Finally, some gillyweed, which Elladora had imported all the way from the Mediterranean at great expense, was chopped finely and mixed into the thick bubbling solution. It turned a sort of green colour, with turquoise steam rising in billowing clouds which filled her kitchen.

Elladora got her wooden spoon and removed some of the potion from the cauldron. At least it hadn't dissolved the spoon like last time. That had to be a good thing… She blew on the spoonful to cool it sufficiently, took a deep breath and swallowed hard. Seconds passed. Nothing happened, apart from the familiar feeling of disappointment that the potion had not worked. Elladora sat down with a sigh. What combination would work? How was she supposed to make people happy at this rate? She'd be dead before she made people happy…

Absently, she picked up some of the leftover gillyweed and ate it, while mulling over her failure. Suddenly, she found she couldn't breathe. She ran desperately around the kitchen, trying to think of what was wrong. The world began to spin around her as the air ran out so she fell to the floor and crawled instead. She put her hands to her neck as if to try and relieve a blockage in them which was stopping her breathing. It was hurting anyway, quite a lot. There were weird little flaps on her neck instead of the solid skin there should be. Like…like…Elladora was finding it increasingly hard to stay conscious and think at this moment in time…like…fish gills! Elladora launched herself at her cold water pail with the last remaining ounces of her strength and plunged her head inside. Suddenly, she could breath again! She was still alive! She took deep breaths of beautiful cool air. She had no idea what had just happened. Was it the potion or the gillyweed? Well, all she knew was that she wasn't going to try either of the again in a hurry. That was that.

_Well, it's taken me ages to do this! It's surprisingly hard working off so little information, and getting the time to do it is also difficult! Just for clarification - 'Quaditch' is what Quidditch was called in the time I was writing (buy and read Quidditch Through the Ages if you want to confirm that, it's for charity after all!). Of course, this all belongs to JKR and her wonderful writing - I disclaim it all! _

_Please, please read and review! Flame if you like, I don't care that much!_

_azi_


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